Rainy day in March, desaturated, bitter
Makes my soul feel high

From my cold room, bright afternoon sun pierces blinds. Cold hands entertain

If only young again,
Wouldn't waste time not enjoyed
Looking back does none

Fun, laughter, hunger
Weeping is balanced by rain
If only young again.

Leaves dance in the flow
Birds sing to drive out sorrow
Love you tomorrow

Warm dissipation; chilled breath expands cold diaphram. Sun lights the heavy

Unto thee